propagating hope in an abandoned heart

am i not worthy of desire?

originally posted on Substack

You already know what to do, you just need to trust you.

I’ve been speaking into the void a majority of my life, carving a space in the dark just for me to feel safe. Even now, as I try to break free of the cage I’ve been in, I struggle with the path ahead.

I’ve mastered fantasy, reality on the other hand…

I write what I know but sometimes I wish I wrote more of what I see.

How can I share hope when more often than not, I can barely breathe?

Sometimes I want a little proof that something is going right instead of being dependent on glimmers, while in all the ways are enough, fall short when you’ve outgrown the space you’re in. The frequency difference requiring all my energy, maintaining my sanity becomes exhausting.

Sometimes you don’t want an angel number or a butterfly. Sometimes you want a meal, to replenish your face wash, or just enough money to go to the laundromat.

The struggle is real.

But I suppose hope is too, my life as proof.

Waiting on a miracle, forgetting that I am one.

I can't give up even if I wanted to, my resistance becoming an annoyance. I'm angry that I'm angry. If I know what's up, then what's the problem? Trying to stay afloat in the middle of heartbreak. How do you heal when you're still in the midst of chaos?

Injured and drained, starved for sustenance, looking out into the battlefield wondering when backup will arrive. Faced with what broke you, having to refuse the pressure of succumbing to the past. Steadily making steps forward, not knowing whats enough even if you are always enough.

I'm always where I'm supposed to be.

But what if I don't want to be?

There's this constant whiplash, trying to find equilibrium, the in-between taking the most strength. This is where hope lives, a master of the extreme.

Abandoned young, hope feels like a fairy tale. There are parts of me that sink into fantasy and there are others that hiss at light, feeling threatened by the possibility ending in disappointment again. These ruins have become home and I've managed to transform them into a place of comfort. I've become resourceful in this restriction, navigating a landscape with little knowledge, curiosity getting me through. There's not much that can grow under these conditions but I've managed some type of system. Weeds thrive, they've taken over the landscape until new seeds start to grow. Recently planted, patience is a virtue I’ve noticed.

Why are we destroying the weeds when wildflowers bring wonder? Wishes in seeds, floating to extend life. They are persistent in their existence, refusing to relinquish hope.

Hope is grit. Hope is resistance.

Hope transforms the victim into a survivor. She wipes your tears as she holds you gently and reminds you of your strength. She’s a fairy in the wind, leaving sparks in her wake. She’s a warrior, picking you back up for the battle you’re in.

Hope is belief.

“what is belief but a knowing?”

You know how to savor, a whisper in my ear. A wave of relief. I do, I really do. When you're not used to a lot, you get to know little and realize, there's actually quite a bit in there.

Infinite goes both ways.

This is where whimsy lives. They love the hidden, the little pops of joy you get when you see something silly. So light, so playful, yet sticky like honey. This is where you savor, where you let time float away. The only thing that exists is now, and no matter what, you're safe. This is your world, you're in control of you.

Despite the discomfort in my environment, I become more intentional about the choices I make. I realize in a lot of ways, hope is me. Reincarnated as a poet who sinks into pain. Landscape so vast, sometimes I get lost there. Where else does hope thrive but in the barren? The home to pioneer species, the prelude to life. The moss that creeps slowly, spreading a new expression of existence. Zero to one is real, everything else is perspective. Simple is the most complex. This is where magic lives.

What needs to be noticed and nurtured?

At the end of the day, I want to feel comfortable in my own body. If the only character in the game you can control is yourself, you begin to pay attention to what assets you have. What's your skill set? What can I use in my environment to my advantage? No longer is it survival, it's an adventure you willingly take.

When it comes to love, thoughts are theory, actions are truth.

It's hard to hide in front of a mirror. That's what truth is. Truth is a weed too, never truly going away. You can only sustain an illusion for so long. Sometimes it's instant and sometimes it's thousands of years. A corrupt system eroding in real time, a gift disguised as pain. Stop lying to yourself, you know why you’re here.

Theory is integral, giving meaning to actions, and amplifying the experience. Emotions are real even if your actions don't reflect it. But at the end of the day, no matter how you feel, you can't deny how you treat you.

I've tried to refuse my rage for most of my life. When there's so much around you, dysregulation is neutral, everything else is madness. The strength it takes to maintain the reins of sanity is so heavy that the mind shuts down and the body gains full control.

Memory isn't my strong suit.

Rage has been demanding my presence lately, threatening me with violence if I keep ignoring resentment. With my boundaries so strong, there's no one in the way to get struck. But then there's the part of me I've been avoiding, my worst enemy, my friend, my lover, my everything.

I've accepted that I'm a little rough around the edges.

My favorite crystal shapes are half polished, half raw. I see myself in them, I suppose. The pressure is always there, I've learned when to engage or ignore. Sometimes I break, a much needed release leading me back home. I've learned to surrender to the waves to get through them quicker.

Breakthroughs are gold, a currency that never dies. It's the foundation of translating theory into the physical. It's a rush of insight, clarity that you didn't know you needed. It's when you get high off of your own creativity, play at its finest.

I wouldn't be a poet if I didn't struggle. Pain is essential, it's integral to achieve depth. We seem to be testing the boundaries of what we can handle, an excess of death.

That means a release is coming. Waves signal movement. Wind so strong, water is moving.

"it's time to be more organic. let the curation form. there's a timing for everything. the curation from before became restrictions. allow for more flow and freedom. no need to define yourself in order to share yourself. it's okay to confuse. it's okay to be misunderstood. let it all go. have fun. play. allow yourself to experience excitement. expand your excitement. your joy is demanding attention.

you're not one thing.

your depth is intense, even for you sometimes. embrace it. see where the depth takes you. fall in love over and over again. deeper and deeper."

- written in one of my many notebooks

There's beauty in the imperfection. I found safety there too. Like finding a flower in the midst of snow, a reminder that there's life underneath the cold. A glimmer of hope after falling in love with discovery. A spark lit, experiencing time rather than dreading it.

"rage lives in silence too."

I accept that I'm pissed off. It's always there, never leaving my side for a second. The monsters I've accepted, the demons I saved from themselves. They've become bodyguards, fierce protectors. Sometimes I have to calm them down, but they grew tired of abuse. They demanded that I love me more than those who hurt me. Lost a lot after that.

Alignment comes with sacrifices. If your not satisfied, remove yourself from what doesn't. Add what does. One at a time or both together. Whatever you're capable of. It's a new season.

"wake up and bloom, spring is here."

Get into the rhythm of creating. Practice devotion. Claim ease. Don't force it if it's not coming out. Start simple. Let the momentum build. Shift as you grow, no need to figure it out before it has a chance to reveal itself. There's choices all around, not tests. This is where the child lives, immortalize in play. The child hates to be ignored too, a tantrum on the way.

Propagating hope starts with wonder.

I began to notice anything that seemed to shimmer, catching my eye letting me know to keep going. Having to step up, claim space without support, hope becomes essential. Sometimes I don't know how I'm still here but then I'm reminded of my ability to alchemize tragedy into triumph. Dreaming saved my life, reality tucked inside of fantasy. I always knew there was more, I just wasn't sure where it was. Still a bit confused, experience sharpened my tools. No matter what's ahead, I know I can depend on me to get me through.

I have hope for community too. I've been burnt out for a while, constantly searching for relief. Hope gets me through this time, knowing it's right around the corner. My visions giving me a sneak peak, a bit of reassurance.

"Balance out the pain by creating.

I'm scared to create again. I'm scared to hope again.

Realizing that hope in the face of nothing, expecting nothing is true faith. Maybe I have to loosen my wants. I want what I create. Nothing less and anything more.

I trust my creativity."

-excerpt from a different notebook

It's always a surreal experience when my own writing surprises me. Every time, I'm reminded that it's a choice, I am only a vessel. A long time ago, a distant present, I decided to hope. It's a thread that can never be cut, reminding me that more is always available. Where? Only time will tell. She's the daughter of silence, a prodigy turned master. She speaks in a range only a few have perfected.

"It's time. That new book of my life I've been referring to for some time now, it's here. I'm the version of me that exists in this section of my life. The way that I make decisions and experience the world around me and within is how this book unfolds.

My life is a fairy tale and I'm at the part where I can now see it and experience it with a self awareness that wasn't there before. I am in a situation that in some ways reflect a previous chapter in my life but in actuality is a representation of how far I've come and how powerful my essence actually is. To revisit the past and only see the future.

This liminal space is a gift, a part of the journey that only exists now. Where I can experience knowing the potential within without any concrete "physical" reassurances in the way we were conditioned to feel "safe" with. I am broke as hell, living with my sister again and I have never felt so free and sure of the path I've been carving from scratch.

I am so grateful to experience life in the way I do. I'm so happy to exist and each day I am stunned at the beauty around me. Collaborating with the universe to create something, many things once in infinity is so magical. How could I feel anything else? I can't hide this anymore. It's expanded to the point that I couldn't hide it if I wanted to.

How can I deny my soul its expression? How can I deny the universe?

I am so supported, always have been. I can't deny what's begging to be released. The time for all my dreams to enter my reality is here. This energy, undeniable. I've sensed it for quite some time and now my physical body and my connection to it have caught up. I am no longer denying myself my true form, my true expression, my true perspective. Let's see how far this life can expand within these limitations.

I love it here. I love love."

- April 2, 2024

Sometimes I'm in awe at my own optimism, that side of me popping up again. Am I right about all this? Where's the proof? A bunch of words sewn together?

Honestly, it's a miracle I even think this.

There it is. There goes hope again.

Hope is sneaky, catching you off guard. She knows there's skepticism here, a result of repeated betrayal. She is patient in her approach, knowing a garden takes time to cultivate.

"the weeds are here. it means the wildflowers are coming."

Dandelion root is exceptionally medicinal. Whimsy is too.

Hope lives in rest, knowing that to rest is to trust. Rest is a sacred liminal space of renewal, the foundation to medicine, man made or herbal. There's hope in recovery, abandonment needing decades to heal. If I don't show up, who else will?

I'm almost there, that's why the fear is so loud and hope is so quiet. Hope trusts time, knowing the surprise is always worth it.

Hope knows love cannot be destroyed. It is eternal. The universe will ultimately always recognize itself. Hope brings experiences that ignite the parts of your soul you didn't know existed.

It's time I choose me

Fulfill my childhood fantasies

m.c.